5Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,6The seasons' difference, as the icy fang7And churlish chiding of the winter's wind,8Which, when it bites and blows upon my body,9Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say10'This is no flattery: these are counsellors

13Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,14Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;15And this our life exempt from public haunt16Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,17Sermons in stones and good in every thing.

33To the which place a poor sequest'red stag,34That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt,35Did come to languish, and indeed, my lord,36The wretched animal heaved forth such groans37That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat38Almost to bursting, and the big round tears

48As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more49To that which had too much:' then, being there alone,50Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends,51''Tis right:' quoth he; 'thus misery doth part52The flux of company.' Anon a careless herd,53Full of the pasture, jumps along by him54And never stays to greet him; 'Ay' quoth Jaques,55'Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens;